


Heated

by robotboy



Series: Butterscotch [14]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet, M/M, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 04:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19124155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: For the prompt: 'Silver and Thomas scheming and trying to keep it a secret from Flint.'





	Heated

Silver is getting slightly high. He sits back, blinking, and lets Thomas take over for a bit.

Thomas grins at him, shaking the Posca and filling in the H of HAPPY.  _Alright?_ he asks.

Silver rolls his eyes back, nodding. He gets up to crack the window open, letting some of the paint fumes out.

 _Better,_ he sits back down, uncapping his own pen and filling the Y.  _Aren’t you getting a headache?_

Thomas shrugs.  _I’m immune. Years of arts and crafts._

Silver grimaces.  _You’re sure he’s going to use it?_

 _He will,_ Thomas says. Silver suspects he’s right, purely on the basis that Flint would do anything Thomas asks.  _He used to have a jacket with this on it._

Silver snorts, moving down to start filling the line QUEER AS IN.  _Really?_

 _He wore it the first time we marched,_ Thomas says.  _In fact…_

He takes out his phone, typing quickly. After a few minutes of colouring in, the phone buzzes. Thomas grins wickedly, showing Silver the pictures Miranda has texted. There is a young James Flint, with long hair and a denim jacket covered in buttons, marching beside a blonde blur that Silver infers is a baby-faced Thomas. Silver tries to zoom in, but the quality is terrible: all he can tell is that Flint’s hair reaches past his shoulders.

_You used to do these?_

_Every year,_ Thomas says. _It was important to me._

 _It’s just…_ Silver tries to explain.  _He always talked about that time as… risky. For your career_.

 _Oh, it was,_ Thomas pulls a face.  _But that’s why I did it. I was never ashamed about who I was._

_Well, no, but I mean…_

_That’s hindsight for you,_ Thomas says breezily.  _But I don’t regret my own actions. I never did._

He keeps colouring, like getting kidnapped by a cult for a decade is an expected consequence for being out of the closet. Thomas notes Silver's skepticism, even if it’s unspoken.

 _All the more reason to go again,_ Thomas says.  _All the more to be proud of. They can’t stop me now._

 _Of course,_ Silver nods.

Thomas gives him that sideways look that always precedes a perceptive question.

 _Have you been before?_  is the question.

 _Not here,_ Silver confesses.  _Years back, though, with friends._

Thomas’ knuckles brush his as they both fill in FUCK in enormous letters.

 _You think he’ll go for it?_ Silver asks.  _Or do you think he’s going to say it’s a cop-worshipping corporate marketing opportunity obsessed with respectability politics?_

 _He’ll say that,_ Thomas smirks.  _Then he’ll go anyway, to prove them all wrong._

Silver laughs, and they finally finish the YOU.

 _Besides, dressed like this?_ Thomas nods conspiratorially beneath the table.  _I think he’d follow us anywhere_.

Silver squirms in his chair. _Do you think he’ll still come if I put on chinos?_

 _Of course he will,_ Thomas squeezes his arm.  _But if I may say so: sometimes the reason you’re scared is the reason you should do it._

 _It’s not that I’m ashamed,_  Silver insists.  _I’m just… not… it’s not pleasant to look at, either._

 _I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,_ Thomas says.  _But I have to say you are_ ** _extremely_** _pleasant to look at. All of you._

Silver stares down at the table, feeling himself flush. Fortunately, Flint comes up the stairs, saving him from any more embarrassment.

 _What are you two up to?_ he asks. Thomas moves like he’s going to hide the sign, which immediately piques Flint’s curiosity.

 _A surprise for you,_ he says, and Flint turns his head to read the slogan they’ve written. His fingers trail slowly over the words, where the paint is barely dry.

 _I used to have a jacket with this,_ he says. Silver can’t help but smile.

 _So you like it?_ Thomas asks.

 _Pride is all pink dollars and blue lives these days,_  Flint grimaces, deepening the laugh lines around his mouth.  _You think I’m going to carry a sign?_

 _No, it’s for me,_ Thomas retorts.

 _Fuck you,_  Flint says fondly.  _I’m carrying it._

 _Good,_ Thomas winks at Silver.  _Because that’s not the surprise._

_What’s…?_

Thomas and Silver stand up simultaneously, stepping out from behind the table. Flint actually chokes when he sees them, blinking a number of times before he can respond.

 _Christ, you’re going to give me a nosebleed,_ he says.  _There’s barely three inches of lycra between you both._

Thomas ogles Silver’s shorts, and Flint follows his lead. Silver is suddenly warm all over.

 _Well,_ Thomas muses. _I think it took a bit more than three inches._


End file.
